


Payback

by restorick



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Drama, Episode related: Kickback, Gen, Older Lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restorick/pseuds/restorick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keller is out of prison and Bodie owes him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payback

**Author's Note:**

> Set in 1991 in Cornwall where Bodie is now Alpha of a regional CI5 squad.

Payback 

 

The top of the range black Land Rover Discovery heading east toward Bodmin Moor exited the A30 and sped down the valley road. It slowed, barely, while negotiating several bends as, although it was a bright clear day, ice still clung to the hillsides and minor roads. Confident of his ability and the vehicle’s traction, Bodie took the next turn onto the Truro road and gunned the engine, seeing the half mile stretch ahead was clear.  
  
Nothing much came along here that wasn’t local and known to him, but he still looked to the GPS and confirmed there were no obstacles to his tunnel visioned progress.  
  
Two identical vehicles were following, driven with equal speed and skill. These held four highly trained armed figures between them – his back up, half his squad. And yet his hands were sweaty, gripping the wheel too tightly; he needed to calm down.  
  
‘A tall, thin man hanging around the lane and meadow,’ she’d said. Bodie checked the Breitling on his wrist. I’m coming. I’ll be there in six minutes.  
  
In six minutes everything could change.  
  
This road ascended the valley side and the high powered vehicle took it with ease. A sharp left was a minor concern before it increased speed and swept onward for another mile, gradually dropping again to follow the tributary of the River Camel.  
  
Arriving in the village, the cars sped through. Not even the landlord of the pub, checking off his brewery delivery from the lorry, received his usual wave from the lead driver.  
  
Barry didn’t mind. Getting to know Bodie socially over the last year or so, they’d found a discreet common ground: Barry was ex navy. If asked, Bodie admitted to working at the nearby RAF base but he was no career airman, Barry could tell. During evenings or Sunday lunchtimes, drinking ale and playing darts, and when Bodie helped out with a clay pigeon shoot in the village, Barry had come to realise there was a side of this man which he couldn’t broadcast.  
  
What did concern the publican was the convoy of vehicles and their haste. Also that Bodie was in what he called his ‘posh’ Land Rover and not the old Defender he usually drove. The Disco announced Bodie’s professional connections loudly and clearly, something the man avoided if he could. So he seemed to prefer the older truck for its camouflage in this rural area but, despite the benign appearance, it had been souped up to be almost as powerful as its high tech civvy brother.  
  
Barry made a mental note to call Lytton’s Barn in a while, to make sure everything was alright. He liked the family that lived there and had an idea what their life could be like.

  


Bodie brought his vehicle to a stop in the entrance to a gravel lane, lowered the window and waved a halt to the following cars. He turned to his only passenger, “Out, Dunc’.”  
  
“But Skip...” the man started to protest.  
  
“Out! Deploy the others. One stays here and the rest close in.”  
  
Ben Duncan opened his door reluctantly. “At least take one of us.”  
  
Bodie was in no mood to debate logistics. “Move in to one hundred yards radius then wait for my signal either way.”  
  
The younger CI5 operative almost corrected his old school boss from yards to meters, but held his tongue. Bodie was not to be joked-with in this frame of mind. This was his turf, he was personally involved and more experienced than Duncan could hope to be in a month of Sundays.  
  
The engine was revving already. Before his junior was barely out of the door, Bodie booted his vehicle into life again and thundered away down the track.  
  
The other vehicles made a roadblock across the lane and the occupants got out, joining their colleague.

\--oo0oo--

Bodie stood at the door to his home. He breathed deeply, once, and moved to swipe a hand-sized box across a panel on the door frame. There was a miniscule crunch of shoe against stone from behind him.  
  
“That you, Keller?” Voice certain, Bodie swivelled to face his old comrade.  
  
“You knew.”  
  
Bodie nodded at the door. “The missus gave me a description. You never were an oil painting; add a few years in clink and the picture made sense. And I did a bit of homework while I drove.” He waggled what looked like an RT but obviously one with added extras. “Seems you’re out. What’re you doing here?”  
  
The man laughed, “You always hated new technology! Funny you’ve taken to it, now.”  
  
“Liked any new weapon. And these days this is just another part of the armoury, far as I’m concerned.” He put the device back in his coat pocket, insisting, “What are you doing here?”  
  
“So, I’m out,” the man shrugged. “But I have nothing and nowhere to go, Bodie. Just thought I’d look up an old friend who owes me...”  
  
Bodie looked at his watch then crossed his eyes expressively. “Twenty seconds in! Never let me forget, do you?”  
  
“I’ve taken bullets for you, twice.”  
  
“I went back for you the second time, even after you did me over!”  
  
“Okay! But you still owe me for the first.”  
  
Despite himself, Bodie smiled thinly. “Come on. Look like you need a break.”  
  
Keller took a few steps forward.  
  
Bodie observed the limp as he moved, the jeans inches deep in dirt and that Keller’s face was thinner and more pinched than previously. “Not in the house. Over here.” Bodie pointed at the farm building opposite and started towards it.  
  
Keller cast a closer look over the restored barn that was obviously Bodie’s home, before following on. Bodie was fingering the comms gadget in his pocket as he strode across the cobbled yard, discreetly signalling his CI5 squad that no support was needed. For now.  
  
Bodie let them into the grey stone building with a wave of the device.  
  
Inside had been fitted out as an office and gym. The wooden floor and painted stone walls set off the furnishings well. The desk and coffee table weren’t exactly antiques but were old, nonetheless – farmhouse pieces, Keller guessed. A leather desk chair and two deep armchairs completed the discreetly tasteful decor. Keller’s eyes quickly took in the communications and computer equipment which told him that Bodie was probably still something in either the civil or secret services.  
  
The host switched on a brass desk lamp, took off his coat and turned the heating thermostat up, before filling a kettle in a small kitchenette to one side. He watched Keller walking stiffly around the gym at the far end of the room. The man stood in front of a punch bag and pushed it, reflectively tracking its swinging.  
  
“You don’t look up to it. Come and sit before you fall down,” Bodie observed.  
  
“Couldn’t fight my way of a paper bag, right enough. It’s been a long trek.” The guest came back across the exercise mat and sat in an armchair. The leather was aromatic and tactile under his hands; he hadn’t felt anything like this in a long time. The warmth of the surroundings and knowledge that he was nominally safe for a while, made the man weak with relief and he dropped his head into a spread hand, arm braced upon the armrest.

  


“Here.” Bodie was nudging his arm.  
  
Keller came to, not knowing how long he’d zoned out. Bodie was standing beside him offering a hot drink.  
  
“Thanks.” Keller took it gratefully, warming his cold hands round the mug and starting to sip, heedless of scalding his mouth. It was strong and sugared; so was prison tea.  
  
After a time, drawing heat and energy from the drink, the man needed a smoke. Keller balanced the mug on the arm of his chair and fished in a pocket for a cigarette packet and lighter. Looking up, Bodie was pursing his lips disapprovingly but then waved a hand in surrender. Keller had lit up anyway. After the long first draw, he gave a deep rattling cough.  
  
Keller wiped his mouth as he squinted through the haze of smoke. “A long trek in the cold and wet. Not as fit as I used to be and British winters haven’t got any better.”  
  
“Come straight from...?” Bodie sought for the prison location as he brought a saucer from the kitchen and put it on the coffee table, indicating that Keller should use it as an ashtray.  
  
“Norwich,” Keller confirmed. “Via London. Asked around for you. Got as far as my cash would take me by rail, then hitched a bit and walked a lot. Didn’t think I could ask you for a pick up from the gates.”  
  
“Water under the bridge, Keller. So, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?” Bodie sat at the desk and booted up his computer.  
  
“I’m looking for someone. My son. I only found out recently that I have a boy, but not much else. So, when I got my parole, I came looking. But, like I said, the release money only goes so far and the grapevine doesn’t work as well for me, these days. I’m calling in that IOU.”  
  
Bodie was giving no indication of what he thought about this revelation, gesturing that his visitor should explain further.  
  
Keller smoked and talked about his recent release and Bodie listened, occasionally tapping at the computer’s keyboard but giving Keller his attention. Bodie knew the story, anyway, but he wanted to hear the other man’s version.  
  
After some minutes of this, the phone on the desk trilled into life, making Keller jump.  
  
Bodie waited while the landline continued ringing and then was answered elsewhere. He waited still further, until a small chirrup told him the call was over and promptly picked the receiver up, pressing a button before speaking.  
  
“It’s me; you okay? ...Yep, in the office. Who was that just now? ...Oh, right... No, everything’s alright, just stay there and I’ll be over in a while. Explain then. Can you rustle up some food, sweetheart? ...For two... Okay, ‘bye.”  
  
Bodie put the phone down and continued Keller’s thread as if the call hadn’t happened. “That the full story?”  
  
“Far as I’m concerned, anyway.” Keller shrugged. He suddenly felt too warm under Bodie’s scrutiny and shifted forward to pull off the heavy coat and throw it over the back of his chair.  
  
Keller settled back, finished his tea and lit up again while Bodie completed the picture, following this man being taken to hospital with gunshot wounds ten years before. 

  


What nobody had known, while Keller was healing in hospital and then standing trial in a military court, was that Sheila Kaufman had been pregnant by him.  
  
Having been picked up by CI5 and questioned by George Cowley and Major Nairn, the woman had been found guilty of nothing other than being in a relationship with Jimmy Keller. The senior men gave her a professional grilling, justified by her reputation. But Kaufman had no more involvement in Keller’s plot to grab the £500,000 than Bodie had done. Her knowledge was simply that Keller had a plan and she would join him when it was complete.  
  
Bodie had witnessed the woman’s increasing frustration and realisation that Keller wasn’t coming back for her, as he stood beside Doyle watching the interrogation through a one way glass. And her terrorist status also turned out to be no more than Keller had said. Over three days, she offered no new information on her known associates.  
  
A half-baked terrorist groupie wanted by Interpol on dope charges, was all that Sheila Kaufman probably was. Sick and broken, she was deported from London back to her native Germany and started serving a sentence for the drugs offences. In prison, Sheila had discovered her pregnancy.  
  
A baby boy was born six months after Keller was dishonourably discharged from the SAS and his former army regiment, and transferred from military prison into the custody of Her Majesty for a twenty year stretch. Sheila had tried to get in touch with him but she was persona non grata, too. She was released early under licence to live with her straight-laced parents, aware that she was being watched by more than just the German authorities but determined to go straight for the sake of her son.  
  
All went better for Sheila and the boy until she tried to clean up her act by clearing out her terrorist friends. They caught up with her, suspicious of her involvement with the SAS and PLA plot. Sheila Kaufman disappeared, only to be found some weeks later dead of a heroin overdose in a Hamburg slum. Herr and Frau Kaufman disowned their daughter’s memory and the grandson they had started to care for. The young boy was taken by the authorities.  
  
And that was where Bodie’s sources picked up again, but he wasn’t going to reveal that. Not yet, at least.  
  
Nobody had told Jimmy Keller that he was a father until years later; fifteen days ago, to be precise.

  


“D’you know she was dead?”  
  
Keller nodded thoughtfully, sucking on his cigarette before watching the exhaled smoke drift away. “Not how, but I guessed. My solicitor let slip about the boy. Shouldn’t have, but then he couldn’t take it back and I made him tell me...” He began brushing nonexistent ash from his trouser leg.  
  
Bodie looked down at his hands to give the man a moment. Keller wasn’t exactly cut up but he wasn’t comfortable, either. Despite the loss being eight years ago, it was new to Keller and there was a kid involved, a kid he hadn’t known about until recently. Bodie put himself in Keller’s place; it must have been a lot to take in at once – the death, probably murder, of a lover you’d been separated from and finding flesh and blood that you couldn’t meet. He felt for him but still, to Bodie’s mind, it was mostly Keller’s own fault.  
  
“And no one’s told you more than that?”  
  
Keller shook his head, words pointless for the moment.  
  
“Well, let’s see what comes back,” Bodie indicated his computer as he used the mouse one last time. “Meanwhile, some food. I know I could do with something.” He got up and took his coat.  
When Bodie looked back from the door Keller was glazed and far away, but he wasn’t totally convincing. Bodie was an old pro, too.

  


Keller waited a few moments before checking through the window. Bodie was in the doorway to his home and there was a glimpse of a woman inside, standing in the way. Then Bodie moved inward, shepherding her back and closed the door behind him.  
  
Immediately, Keller moved around the desk to the computer screen. It was blank. He’d used a supposedly up to date one in what the prison smugly called it’s education room, but not like this. HM prison service was laughingly behind the times if this is what was out in The Real World!  
  
Keller tried the mouse, but all that happened was a flashing cursor appeared on screen. The keyboard brought no joy, either. Damn! Bodie had locked it, protecting it from entry by anyone but himself. Without the time or ideas for trying passwords, Keller tried the filing cabinet which was also locked. He had a swift trawl through the desk drawers instead, knowing it was unlikely there would be anything of significance unguarded.  
  
A large woven rug on the floor between the desk and coffee table drew his attention. Keller flicked the edges over with a foot until he found what he was anticipating. He knelt awkwardly and rolled the rug away, revealing the outline of a small gun safe. The strong box was sunk flush into the floorboards, probably deep enough for shotguns and bolted to the joists beneath. Safe and sound, alright, and Bodie would have the key. Or maybe that gadget he was using opened this as well.  
  
Keller flipped the rug back into place and pushed himself up to stand just as painfully as getting down there had been. He flattened out any wrinkles in the rug with his feet, covering his tracks. Both still in the service, he thought, no matter the place or time, doing exactly as they’d been drilled to do all those years ago. All those years ago...  
  
On hearing voices, Keller walked back toward his seat, positioning himself for a view of the outdoors.

  


As he watched the scene in the courtyard, Keller was reminded of the joint SAS/ CI5 operation which had brought about the end of his professional relationship with Bodie. Bodie had taken one look at Keller’s arm around Sheila Kaufman and thrown all his toys out of the pram - a typical Bodie reaction, but one that he’d reportedly come to revise, from what he’d said earlier.  
  
The ‘missus’ Bodie had referred to wasn’t younger than him. Looked about the same age to Keller. She wasn’t one of Bodie’s famous stunners either. But she was attractive; a slim figure dressed in jeans and a boxy Arran jumper, her lower legs in aged Hunters. Her fair hair was shortish, setting off elfin features and a natural unmade up face. She looked... well, nice; ordinary, average.  
  
She was camouflage, that’s what she was, Keller told himself. Bodie was fitting into the Cornish countryside, this way of life he’d created as a screen for his work, and the woman was part of that.  
  
Just how much a part was soon to become apparent.  
  
Bodie was carrying a tray covered with a cloth and the couple were deep in conversation as they walked toward a snazzy little jeep. She had her arms crossed, hugging herself against the cold of the outdoors. Bodie had a look of determined concentration on his face and so did the woman; they weren’t exactly arguing but it was obvious that a spirited discussion was taking place.  
  
Then the woman put a hand onto Bodie’s arm. Gripping his bicep, she braced her elbow against her side and moved to look directly into Bodie’s stern features, stopping him in his tracks. He held her eyes, too, before a gentle smile gradually spread across his face. Keller couldn’t see the woman’s expression, but it seemed the discussion was settled as Bodie walked her backward, their arms still united and he put the tray on the bonnet of the jeep.  
  
Taking the woman into his arms, they hugged tightly, her hands cradling the back of his neck and head, fingers snaking into his hair as Bodie turned her away from Keller’s sight. Then Bodie leant back and Keller could see the woman’s calm face as the couple spoke quietly for a moment. Bodie kissed her, disconnected himself and picked up the tray again. She moved away to the barn, looking back once; he walked onward.  
  
Keller quickly shifted from the line of sight and saw no more until Bodie backed in through the doorway, struggling with the tray as his elbow levered the door handle.  
  
Bodie instantly took in the picture of Keller warming his hands on one of the half dozen chunky radiators Bodie had been ‘persuaded’ to buy from the sale of an old school.  
  
Apparently, they’d been perfect for the barn renovation and she’d insisted they got up at the crack of dawn on one of Bodie’s rare days off, to drive to the auction. Bodie had moaned and grumbled at the weight and size of the things as he and the auctioneer’s gofers loaded them into the Landie and trailer. But she’d known that he was pleased with them, too; it was just his way of saying so. Now he had to begrudgingly admit, the damn things looked pretty good here and pumped out the heat.  
  
Bodie left Keller standing at his thinly disguised observation point and offloaded the things from the tray while whistling industriously.

  


Knowing that Bodie knew and unable to resist standing at the window again, Keller watched the woman re-emerge from the barn, now wearing a coat and, to his surprise, holding a baby sitting on her hip.  
  
It was happily kicking and waving a toy as the woman chatted affectionately on their way to the jeep. Pulling a hood over the child’s close mop of black hair, the woman kissed its forehead. Suddenly she looked across the courtyard and caught Keller’s eye. She held his gaze steadily, almost defiantly, for a moment before opening the car door and busied herself with getting the child inside. There was a flash of pink blanket as it was tucked around a small seat the baby was strapped into.  
  
“That your kid?”  
  
Bodie went over to the window with two mugs of soup and passed one to Keller. “Yeah.”  
  
“Girl?”  
  
Bodie nodded, sipping his own as the scene outside held him there, too.  
  
“Takes after you.” Keller wiggled a finger at his hair  
  
“Yeah, poor mite. Luckily, she’s not all me.”  
  
“You with _that _steady a girlfriend!” Keller scoffed, shaking his head. _ _  
  
Bodie coyly scratched a sideburn, looking sideways at his former comrade.  
  
“Not _‘wife’ _?” Keller’s eyebrows almost climbed off his forehead. _ _  
  
“In all but name, and I’m working on that,” Bodie couldn’t help confessing.  
  
“You‘re not joking.”  
  
“Nope. Means if anything happens to me they’ll be sorted, all legal. ‘Sides, a kid should have parents that are wed; I’m a bit old fashioned, that way.”  
  
“Never thought you’d do all this: the domestic scene, nice home in the country.”  
  
“Neither did l, but there came a time.” Bodie’s face suffused with a warmth Keller hadn’t seen before. The woman and kid weren’t camouflage; this was for real.  
  
“Then you know how I feel! My boy’s nine years old. I’ve never seen him, didn’t know he existed until a couple of weeks ago. But I don’t ‘have any right’, apparently! I don’t even have a photo. You have all this,” Keller gestured at the barn and meadow beyond, his wave coming to rest on the woman who was locking the barn door with a weekend bag in her other hand. He turned back to Bodie. “Help me. Please.”  
  
Bodie was thoughtful. “Come and eat, then we’ll work something out.” He ushered Keller away from the window and back toward the table.  
  
There were filled rolls on a plate, a flask – presumably where the soup came from – a cake tin and some apples. Keller lowered his lean frame into an armchair, put the mug down and took a roll. Cheese and pickle. It smelled good and made his mouth water. He hadn’t eaten since pocketing a pasty from a baker’s shop window display, the day before. Keller tore a bite out, hungrily.  
  
Bodie was back at the window, making sure his family departed before he tackled his guest more directly.  
  
As he ate the roll and took up his soup again, Keller saw Bodie raise a hand in farewell to those outside, his face soft and open. A car engine started up and a slow roll of tyres on the cobbles followed. Bodie tracked the vehicle as Keller heard it moving away from the house and down the lane.  
  
It was hard, business-faced Bodie who turned back to the room. He came across, sat in the other armchair and selected a roll. Bodie chewed it slowly, facing Keller off.  
  
Keller decided to eat instead of comment on what he’d just seen and applied himself to more soup, another roll and then the contents of the cake tin which Bodie had raided before waving it the other man’s way. The cake was homemade. Bodie’s personal army still marched on its stomach and he seemed, Keller appreciated, to be with someone who catered for his notoriously hollow legs.  
  
Keller helped himself to a piece of sticky gingerbread, not knowing when he’d eat this well again. He passed the tin back and took advantage of this apparent thaw in the atmosphere as they both enjoyed the cake. “I know I pushed the limits of loyalty, Bodie, but we used to get on, you and I. I’d like to meet them; meet the woman who can handle you.”  
  
“No. This isn’t exactly a social visit. I’ll help, but then I want you out of here.”  
  
“Come on, I’m not a danger to them!” Keller spat crumbs with his offence.  
  
“Quite right, you’re not. They’ve gone to stay with a friend, for now.”  
  
Should have known better than to take this succour at face value, thought Keller. “I’ve done my time, but Travaioli was necessary,” he persisted.  
  
“Sorry, Keller, have to correct you, there.” Bodie inspected his reproachful fingers, licked them clean of gingerbread and got up.  
  
He refilled and put the kettle on again then turned, nostrils flaring in an expression of bitterness that his companion recognised. “PLA or not, it wasn’t ‘necessary’, it was murder. You made a choice, a clear distinction between the two, the moment you set up that explosion, stole half a million and screwed a mission! What the hell were you thinking, Jimmy?”  
  
Keller sighed heavily. “Didn’t you ever get tired of being the good guy? Sorting out everyone else’s problems while they got the pay day? Figured it was my turn.”  
  
Bodie was making tea, his hunched shoulders blanking this sales pitch.  
  
“I’d been out in the field a long time, isolated, maybe I got my principles skewed,” Keller rationalised. “But I wanted to be with Sheila; get her away from that scene. There was a way out with that kind of money... Well, it just was too good to pass up – nobody was going to lose except the PLA and Sutherland; just the type of criminal you used to put away on a regular basis.”  
  
“‘Laundering’ blood money? Don’t give me that! You killed for your own reasons. Abandoned everything you knew was right!” Bodie growled, years worth of resentment boiling over.  
  
“A matter of whose side you’re on. I wanted something for me.”  
  
Bodie dumped the refilled mugs on the coffee table, spilling tea, and glared at Keller. “Congratulations, you got that alright – twenty years of it!”  
  
“You’ve killed for dubious reasons, in your time. Still involved from what I can see. And it’s paying off.” Keller gestured around them. “Don’t tell me your other half doesn’t know what you do, what you are.”  
  
Bodie sat again, calming at the mention of the departed woman. “She knows... and she understands the difference between killing out of need and doing it for your own ends. But what I do stays at work and she’s made me another kind of life to come home to.”  
  
“That ‘saves’ you, does it?”  
  
Bodie wasn’t to be provoked. “What’s done is done. She believes it’s here and now that counts – the three of us. You can’t buy that. No amount of money or possessions make up for what she gives me, so I do what I can. This is my life and I don’t want you near my girls.”  
  
“You might think you can keep them apart but you won’t do it forever. That life and this will collide eventually, Bodie. You mark my words.”  
  
“Not if I have anything to do with it. And I’m master of my own destiny, these days. Way I feel now, if danger comes too close, I’ll cut CI5 loose; walk away. I want something for me, too.”  
  
“You’re deluding yourself.” Keller shook his unkempt head. “I found you, and I’ve been with The Queen for ten years. Any enemy could find you just as easily.”  
  
“And I could’ve taken you out within a mile. Was on the way before I got her call. My security is top-notch and so are my squad.”  
  
“Then why worry her by following me in? Is that any way for a wife and kid to live? Behind locked doors, fearful for what might come after you?”  
  
“No.” Bodie was regretful for a moment and then squared up to Keller again. “But the world’s moved on while you’ve been away. There are more ways of keeping them safe than you know. This isn’t a fortress, we live pretty normally. And she agrees: even if I leave CI5, the risk is still there. We’d rather live like this, than hide or live apart...”  
  
Keller caught a depth of feeling in his eyes he wouldn’t have known Bodie was capable of unless he’d seen it himself.  
  
Just then the fax machine began to spit out paper. Bodie got up quickly and consulted his computer before shutting it down. He fetched the printouts, standing with his back to Keller while he read the paperwork through.  
  
Bodie sat back down, stacked the pages neatly and handed them over. He was completely composed again. “They’re my life, Keller; the reason I do what I do, the right way. You’ll find that out when you catch up with your kid.”  
  
And, reading about his son, Keller started to appreciate this new side to Bodie.________

  


The boy had been named James after his father, but Sheila shortened it to Jamie in everyday use and this was preserved by his adoptive parents when they’d brought him from Germany to Yorkshire seven years before. No surname, no address, but close enough; his son was in England!  
  
Keller stared at these facts in astonishment. He’d skipped custody only weeks before his first parole hearing with the hope that he could find his son, and now he might even be able to see him in the flesh.  
  
He knew, had always known really, that he couldn’t make contact now or it would foul up any chance of a future relationship with the lad, possibly permanently. But just to see him, to catch a glimpse of his own flesh and blood... It would be enough. He would then be content to keep his distance, just to keep tabs on the boy until he was eighteen when surely Jamie would want to meet. Keller felt renewed energy, stronger for knowing that his son was within reach.

  


Bodie was putting his coat back on as Keller looked up. The hope on the man’s otherwise drained features told Bodie that he’d done the right thing back then and was doing the same now. “You hold tight for a sec and I’ll get you on your way,” he advised.  
  
Keller’s hands were shaking slightly as he lit up another cigarette. “And where am I going?”  
  
Bodie was pokerfaced. “You did not get through a parole board last week; it wasn’t scheduled until the twenty fifth. You faked that knee cartilage you always used back in the day, and got a hospital visit. Maybe the prison doc believed it, but it never fooled our old M.O. and I don’t buy it, either.”  
  
The man half stood but Bodie stepped forward, looming over him. Keller sat.  
  
“Knowing that you’d be uncuffed and unaccompanied by your escort due to the radiation, you asked the X-ray staff if you could go to the gents and slipped out of the hospital around eleven twenty hours on Friday,” Bodie continued. “You were reported missing soon after and they’ve been searching ever since. The prison officers concerned have received a right royal bollocking.”  
  
Keller was grinning slightly at this, hoping Bodie’s jocular delivery was going his way.  
  
It wasn’t. “Only one place you’re going, Keller, that’s back.”  
  
The seated man was cynical again. “‘Water under the bridge’? ‘What’s done is done’, eh?”  
  
“Yeah, you were undercover and offed a terrorist; I know you’re not dangerous, but you have to go back.” Neither the voice nor the body language was joking, now.  
  
Bodie brought out his comms device as he walked to the door and swung into action once it was closed firmly behind him. “Okay, bring the cars down to the house. On the way, get Sean into base. He and one of you lucky people are on a jaunt to Norwich, tonight.”  
  
Minutes later, Bodie returned to his office. “Right, time to go. Your chariot awaits...”  
  
The chair was empty. Bodie scoured the room from the doorway. Keller wasn’t at the desk or in the kitchenette. The last roll and untouched apples were missing from the coffee table and a half smoked cigarette smouldered on the saucer. Off to the right, cold air seeped into the gym through an open window. The alarm wasn’t sounding because the gadget had shut off the system.  
  
Sod new weapons, the old ones were just fine!  
  
Bodie swept away from the building reaching inside his coat for a trusty gun. “With me!” he barked at the squad members waiting outside.

  


The man had been spot on - he wasn’t as fit as he used to be and the hollow coughing gave him away. Heading toward the stand of trees screening the house from the westerlies which prevailed across the moor, Bodie caught up with his departing guest.  
  
“Keller...! Keller!” Bodie’s voice sounded out just as it had done ten years before on a boat in a Thames marina, but this time growing stronger, not less certain. “You’ve taken two bullets for me, don’t let the third be from me!”  
  
The man halted but didn’t turn. He sounded weary beyond his years. “Let me go, Bodie. I thought you understood, this time.”  
  
Bodie kept the gun down, thumb hovering over its safety catch. “I do! You have every right to know your kid, but you gotta do it the right way. Don’t completely cock it up, Jimmy. My guys will get you back and smooth it over. You’ll get a bit more time added on, but I’ll back you all the way for the next parole; get you news from Jamie’s parents, if they’ll agree. That way, you’ll both have a choice when he’s eighteen.”  
  
“I can’t waste any more time!” The tall thin figure resumed walking.  
  
“But you’ll never get the chance, this way! You’ll be on the run or banged up for the rest of your natural. If you think I’m mad for trying to have a normal life with my kid, what does this say about you, eh? You’ve seen what I’ve got, now. That’s why I let you get here, so’s I could persuade you to stick with it. Believe me, it’s worth the wait...”  
  
Keller turned, understanding, himself. He brought out the papers with the boy’s history on them. “You! You had something to do with this!”  
  
The grip on the gun loosened. “The couple are British; were living in Germany at the time. At a year old, Jamie was going to be put into care. The place looked bloody awful! I felt for him. For you. Had to argue the toss with the authorities, but won the day ‘cause you’re British. Laid out a fair bit of money, too!” Bodie moaned, exaggeratedly, before adding in a thoughtful tone, “And I hadn’t even dreamed of being a dad, then. Seems you owe me, now, Keller.”  
  
The man looked past Bodie to the other CI5 agents forming a cordon, waiting for this to play out. Resigned, he began walking back toward his former comrade.  
  
“No I don’t. Call it even.”

  



End file.
